


How Sweet It Is

by historiologies



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, also mingyu works at a bakery, and has a southern accent!!, fake engagement au, this is set in los angeles so... california AU?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 08:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13290573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historiologies/pseuds/historiologies
Summary: Minghao thinks the guy working at the local bakery may or may not be flirting with him, so of course he does what any rational young man being flirted with does under the circumstance: pretend to be engaged under the guise of ‘trying out the wedding dessert samples.'(He may be doing this all wrong.)





	How Sweet It Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wrapper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrapper/gifts).



> Hello, my prompt was: "‘does somebody wanna be fake engaged to me for like 2 hours to try free wedding cake samples’ au" but I kind of twisted it around for a romcom meet-cute filled with miscommunication shenanigans. I hope you don't mind too much, recipient, and that I managed to give you something you liked either way. :)
> 
> Thanks to my lovely mod friends for arranging this all for us. It was great fun to write 97z and to ramp up and feature what makes them so good--the lovely relationships between all of them. <3

When Minghao wakes up that morning, he doesn’t expect to find the love of his life. Far from it. He doesn’t even believe in that bullshit—it’s the sort of thing that people who thought unicorns used to exist believed in, the kind of stuff that folks like Seokmin and Joshua ate for breakfast (the reason why they’re the ones dating each other and why neither is dating Minghao.) It’s not that it’s dumb—it’s just sappy as all heck, on top of which he’s just not into all that esoteric, bordering-on-loony philosophizing about love-at-first-sight and soulmates and what-not that movies and tv shows droned on and on about. Movies and tv shows? Those, he knows. And he knows there isn’t much truth behind what’s shown on the screen.

There he is, getting distracted again.

Truthfully, he’s not thinking about any of that while walking the three blocks from his apartment to the train station; he’s actually, in truth, thinking about the steaming cup of coffee that he’s planning to get as soon as he gets to the set—today, it’s an episode of a typical teenage high school drama show—and thinking about how much of a pain this director is. 

Minghao prided himself on his burgeoning reputation as up-and-coming costume designer, and he secretly preened over the number of production companies who were falling all over themselves to book him for their projects. This particular project (which he had agreed to on the premise of there being a lot of rich preppy clothing--technically a low-blow because by gosh did he love his Gossip Girl) had been going smoothly until the showrunner was fired mid-season, and now the remaining producers had firmly decided that they would be taking the main director’s suggestion to go ‘edgier’ to drum up the ratings.

Minghao sneers as he remembers all of this trudging through the early morning chill. Edgy doesn’t always equal drama, and it doesn’t always equal viewership. But hey, who asked him? He was just the costumes guy, the cynical, slightly bratty (per Seokmin; Joshua would never dream of calling him that, which just proves that Josh was the nicer between the two of them angels), always desperately in need of caffeine costumes guy. And that was just fine with him. For now. He’ll duck his head, do his job (even if it meant cancelling contracts and oral agreements with wardrobe houses and clothing boutiques—they’ll be forgiven eventually, because after all, it’s Los Angeles, and it’s show business), even if it means scrapping all his plans for new ones.

He doesn’t quite believe in love at first sight, but he does believe in love—love for his friends, for his family and for his work, which was why he was up at five o’clock to take the early train into the studio to wait for the early shipment of the new costumes coming in, instead of sleeping in until quarter past six to be at the set by the time the first actor gets into hair and make-up.

Minghao loves his job, and that is the important thing for now.

Here’s the first thing: Minghao does not have a sweet tooth.

It’s not that he’s adamantly opposed to sugar; he’s just never seen the point of cramming immense mounds of it in your mouth. He’s a wiry thing, lean and tall. He spends most of his time designing and crafting costumes and in his down time he spins and bends and jumps with his weekend dance crew. It doesn’t prevent him from partaking in sweets but it also helps him err on the side of nay when he’s offered a cupcake or two by his neighbors whenever they bring home some from shops near their places of work.

Seokmin mentioned one time that there’s a really good bakery around their apartment and that one day they should go around and look for it and Minghao, cradling his wine glass from his spot on their couch where he always ends up unwinding after a long day on set, just grunted in casual agreement. Joshua grinned at him and Minghao grinned back, their shared amusement in Seokmin’s blissful unawareness as he rattled off suggestion after suggestion while wiping their dinner plates one of their favorite bonding moments.

So yes, Minghao is not into sweets. Not at all.

Especially when they almost end up all over him.

“Whoa,” Minghao splutters as he hears a loud bang and a cloud of powder dust disrupts his vision. He coughs as he manages to inhale some, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he flails around, trying to clear his eyesight. There’s so much _white_ and Minghao covers his mouth and nose so as not to take more of it into his body.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Somewhere in the distance, a disembodied voice is calling out to him, too loud and concerned for five in the goddamn morning. The autumn breeze wafts away most of the white and to say that Minghao is annoyed at what he sees when the dust clears is a severe understatement—his newly-dyed chestnut brown hair and the new black coat he’d just bought were now covered in white powder dust.

 _Great, just great._ Minghao thinks to himself, before he closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and tells himself to calm down. _It was an accident, just an accident, nobody’s fault. Clothing can be laundered, hair can be washed. It’s fine._ Anger management was a skill he had to learn to survive in Los Angeles, and it was too early in the day to ruin it by being unreasonably irritable.

Minghao feels his heart rate settle from the bumpiness of the sudden upsurge in emotion, and sighs quietly before he opens his eyes.

He jerks a little in surprise when he sees desperately earnest dark brown eyes tilted and peering into his. “Hi,” the person says, and his lips, previously set in a pout, curved into a sweet smile. “I’m Mingyu. I’m sorry about all this.” He does a weird thing with his shoulders, something akin to gesturing around himself, which Minghao thinks he would have better accomplished with his hands, were his hands not firmly set around a tray of the most beautifully designed breads and tarts and cupcakes Minghao had ever seen.

“That’s-that’s okay,” Minghao stutters. Immediately, his inner self becomes alarmed. _Stutter? Minghao Xu does_ not _stutter. Especially for a boy._ He clears his throat aggressively and straightens up a little. “Maybe look before opening the door, I guess.”

Mingyu’s shoulders curl up, and Minghao thinks it makes him look like an apologetic puppy. It’s the strangest image. “I know, I know, it was really irresponsible of me. To be fair, I didn’t think anyone would be around at 5 am.”

“You must be new here,” Minghao deadpans, and the red that deepens across Mingyu’s nose tells him he’s right. “Californians crave mornings like they do gluten-free organic products.”

“Ah, that explains it. You’re right. I’m more of a Kentucky boy myself. Just moved here. Used to be I only had the animals to keep me company until breakfast.”

Minghao raises an eyebrow as he finally places the slight twang that seemed a little strange with his face—Mingyu sounded like a Korean name. “Farm boy aspiring to be a movie star?” _He could, to be honest,_ Minghao thinks. He has the rakish good looks of a boy-next-door leading man, the one who silently pined after the golden girl with the big heart before he leaped into action and saved her from the terrors of high school bullies. Or werewolves. Depending on the budget.

“Oh,” Mingyu says, and the knuckles around the tray he was clutching turned white, like he had to hold onto something from sheer excitement. “No, not at all. I came here—I want to bake.” He smiles shyly and Minghao feels the hands in his pockets clench; why for, he’s not exactly sure. He’s not sure he wants to know, either.

“To bake?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says, and the brightness in his eyes is just so refreshing. “Mr. Park from two blocks down, the one who owns the Korean noodle place? He’s family friends with my folks, and he talked to Mr. Harper of this good bakery here, and got me a job to learn under him.” Minghao doesn’t remember ever seeing a person look that pleased to be employed—not even Seokmin could get that worked up over his job (then again, he _is_ kind of stuck in retail hell until he gets his big theatrical break).

“That’s-that’s great,” Minghao says, cursing the stuttering again. He’s definitely blaming the cold. “That explains why I haven’t seen you around, even if I pass here almost every day.”

Mingyu nods slowly. “Maybe, or maybe you just haven’t been paying enough attention.” He laughs sheepishly. “Anyway, I’m really sorry about ruining your coat. It’s really pretty too. Fits you really well.”

Minghao does _not_ know how to reply to that. “Uhhh, thanks?”

“I should get you a cup of coffee to make up for it,” Mingyu says, walking towards the entrance of Harper’s, a quaint and quiet little café and bakery festooned in pastels and what looks like images of pastries and coffee cups painted on the walls. Minghao looks into the place, empty as yet, and then back into Mingyu’s handsome face, and for some reason he is desperately tempted to give in.

It’s that eagerness to say yes that makes him pause, and definitely say no. There was something very sweet and genuine about him that unsettled Minghao; maybe it was just too early in the day, maybe it was just Minghao being used to having his bullshit-meter turned on 24/7. But he’s not getting knotted up over a pretty face who could, from the looks of the goods in his hands, decorate the shit out of a cupcake. Down that path was a mess of complications he was not interested in unraveling at this point in his life.

(He convinces himself, anyway.)

“I-I’d like to—” _there’s the damn stuttering again_ “—but I might be, I might be late for work. And your tarts look like they’re getting cold.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen at that. “Oh shit,” he says, startling, and Minghao almost laughs at the speed at which he hastens to get to the door, and the warmth of the inside. Minghao steps forward and opens the door for him before he does something clumsy like knock all the baked goods into the ground.

It’s a very close call.

“Thanks, uh, I never got your name.”

Minghao blinks. “It’s Minghao.”

Mingyu’s eyes crinkle with delight. “Minghao! And I’m Mingyu. It’s like, we’re M&Ms then.”

 _Oh God,_ Minghao thinks. _I can’t believe this same guy made me curl my hands up with cute. I’m losing my mind, clearly._ Still, he can’t help but grin at the excited little noise he makes at the realization. “Sure, if you think so.”

“See you around, Minghao! Really. I owe you a cup of coffee.”

Minghao laughs and closes the door instead of answering, watching through the glass as Mingyu shuffles to the front of the counter to display his precious wares, inviting customers to order some. He’s not going to let anyone see the tiny grin on his face, put on there by an overgrown farm boy with a cute accent and a penchant for icing.

He takes a few minutes of his time to roughly pat at the sleeves of his clothes and his hair, getting rid of the worst of the dust. As he’s cleaning himself up, his eyes land on a poster stuck outside Harper’s. It’s an announcement about Harper’s new catering services.

Interesting.

\---

Here’s the second thing: Seokmin is his best friend in the world, and if anyone would straight face Minghao’s latest bout of tomfoolery, it would be him.

Seokmin and Minghao were friends in university, and had gotten along so well that they’d moved in together after graduation—right across from Joshua, another Korean-American working as a nurse. He and Seokmin had hit it off and had just moved in together after almost two years of dating, leaving Minghao in his and Seokmin’s apartment alone until he could find a new roommate. The need wasn’t immediate—Minghao could comfortably afford it for now. Minghao would have been annoyed if Seokmin wasn’t his closest friend and if Minghao didn’t feel like dropping everything to cuddle up next to Josh every time he looked at him either.

So even though sometimes he feels like the third wheel in this whole arrangement—which, honestly, he is—he grins and bears it, for Seokmin. And since imagining a time when he couldn’t just walk the few feet separating their doors to get Seokmin’s advice made for very grim moments, maybe it was a little bit for him too.

When he gets home that evening, after dropping his bag and shoving his feet into something more comfortable (fuzzy frog slippers given by his crewmate Soonyoung), Minghao immediately crosses the four feet making up the hallway between his door and theirs, pushes it open without even a knock. Honestly, most of the time, it felt like their apartments were simply extensions of each other’s, the way they all walked in and out of them.

Josh doesn’t even look up from the bowl of chili he’s stirring at the stove, but he sends a warm “hey” in Minghao’s direction. Minghao decides to detour and give Josh a nice big snuggle before he goes off to see what Seokmin’s up to. “Hi Josh,” he says, laying his head against his shoulder. 

There’s something about Josh that makes Minghao think of newly-baked cookies and a warm knit throw over your favorite chair. It’s not even in the annoying goody-two-shoes sense, but he’s just the most decent human being Minghao’s ever met, which makes him laugh when he thinks he lives in the heart of L.A.

“Rough day?”

“Uhhhhh, depends on what you think of as rough,” Minghao muses. “I went in and had to improvise, like, three classrooms worth of outfits because the director thought they dressed too happy for a high school set in New York, plus it was that new intern Dino’s turn to make the coffee and that’s not exactly why I hired him. So, all in all, not the most ideal day.”

Minghao knows he screwed up somewhere along the line because suddenly Josh stops stirring. “I feel like there’s a but somewhere there.”

“No buts,” Minghao replies, but it’s a little too quick to not be suspicious. He curses internally. He’s not exactly ready to tell anyone about the cute Korean baker with a Southern twang just yet. At least, not until he gets to talk to Seokmin. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Josh.

It’s just that he has the stupidest plan to go back to Harper’s and he needs Seokmin’s help and for Josh _not to know a thing about it_.

“Is Seok in your study? I’ll just go to him now.” He steps away from Josh so hastily, he’s pretty sure a breeze ruffles his collar.

Josh turns to look at him and Minghao is pinned down by his suspicious stare. He steps back even further, the counter nudging at his back as Josh waves the wooden spoon in his face as a warning.

“I’ll get it out of Seokmin, you know.”

Minghao laughs warily. “There’s nothing to get out of him.” Josh’s eyes narrow further. “I swear!”

He has to hope Seokmin has gotten better at keeping secrets.

\---

Here’s the third thing about this whole escapade: Seokmin has not gotten better at keeping secrets.

“I just don’t get why you can’t just walk into the place and buy some muffins?” Seokmin complains.

“Because,” Minghao replies, without really replying. He doesn’t have an answer. What Seokmin suggests sounds reasonable, even logical. Muffins! They’re a good thing! They’re commitment-free and casual! Infinitely more casual than what he’s suggested to do to Seokmin! “It’s too late for that.”

“It’s not too late,” Seokmin hisses. His eyes, normally curved with general delight with the world, are now wide with alarm and pleas. “If Josh heard about this—”

“Josh isn’t _going_ to find out,” Minghao tries speaking over Seokmin reassuringly. “You said he had two shifts today, right? I specifically scheduled this smack dab in the middle of them so that we wouldn’t get caught.” They’re huddled outside Harper’s, arguing about whether or not to go inside for the appointment Minghao had set with Mr. Harper.

“Besides, you like free stuff!”

“I like free stuff when it’s given under no pretenses!” Seokmin splutters almost comically. “I can’t take anything from them under a fake premise!”

“You’ll be changing your mind when you see the cupcakes,” Minghao surmises, the images of the baked goods rising again in his mind. Only the baked goods, mind, not the baker.

Definitely not the baker.

“We aren’t broke, and we aren’t doing this for a dare,” Seokmin grouses. “Tell me again why you won’t just march in and ask for the guy’s number over the coffee he so graciously agreed to give you for free?”

Minghao opens his mouth to answer, except he doesn’t. Answer, that is. He doesn’t have one. He just knows that before he went off to work that day, he marched into the bakery and asked Mingyu if he could schedule a taste test for his upcoming wedding ceremony with his partner.

“Oh,” Mingyu had said then. His eyes had widened, then gone blank. “Of course!” They’d decided on a day, and Minghao promised he’d call later on with a time.

_Because he’s impulsive and proud and reluctant and an idiot?_

“Because this way it doesn’t mean anything,” Minghao finally responds. Seokmin narrows his eyes at the cryptic reply, but there’s something about how stiff Minghao is standing that makes him hesitate.

“That sounds ominous,” Seokmin notes, and Minghao almost giggles.

“Relax,” Minghao tries to bolster Seokmin (and himself) with a big grin. “It’s just cupcakes.” He reaches out his hand and Seokmin, despite all his reluctance, takes it anyway. 

“It’s never just cupcakes,” Seokmin grumbles, before stepping into the shop with him. 

The bakery is nearly full when they enter; it’s a little before lunch time, but that doesn’t seem to prevent people from sitting at the neat round tables with the smooth granite tops and the comfortable swivel chairs, cups of coffee in hand. The smell wafting around the front area is to die for; the heady aroma of ground beans underpinned by the unmistakable scent of sugar and frosting.

Seokmin heads straight to the display window, staring at all the baked goods on offer. Minghao sighs. His best friend is really as predictable as a West Coast heat wave.

“Oh my god, Hao, look, I have to get this for Josh, he’s going to _love_ \--”

“Minghao?”

Minghao steps on Seokmin’s toe and disguises his yelp of surprise with a hearty laugh. “Honey, let’s not be too embarrassing right off the bat.” He loops an arm through Seokmin’s and tugs on him to face forward with him. “Hi. Mingyu. I hope we’re not late for our appointment?”

“Not at all,” Mingyu says; there’s something about his expression that tells Minghao he’s struggling to keep it pleasant, and his stomach clutches just a little when Mingyu’s eyes keep darting towards his and Seokmin’s intertwined arms. 

From hunger, obviously. He skipped breakfast for this.

“I’ll be assisting you today,” Mingyu explains, gesturing for them to follow him to an empty booth near the back of the store, close to the kitchens. “Mr. Harper is busy in the kitchens and besides, desserts are my specialty.” The corners of his lips upturn, in his brightest expression of the afternoon.

“Thank you,” Seokmin says, leaning forward and trying to give Mingyu the biggest smile he’s physically capable of. “We really appreciate this.” He surreptitiously jams the heel of his foot onto Minghao’s toes as he leans forward to perch his chin on his elbows. “Minghao’s really into cupcakes and we really wanted to try out the local selections instead of the caterer’s suggestions.”

“That’s right,” Minghao confirms, teeth gritted. He reaches out and takes Seokmin’s hand in his deliberately, trying not to smile as Seokmin swallows a yelp of displeasure when Minghao suddenly drills a finger into his side. “We really like our sweets.”

Mingyu looks back and forth between them, eyebrows knotting together as if trying to figure the two of them out. “Sure thing,” he says finally. He stands up, tips his head a little in courtesy. “Please excuse me, I’ll go get the selection now.”

When he leaves them to head back into the kitchen, Seokmin immediately pokes Minghao back. They’re adults that way, clearly. “What was all that for?” he moans, rubbing at his side. “You know I’m sensitive there!”

“Then stop stepping on me,” Minghao retorts, wiggling his toes to get feeling back into them. “You have to just chill. Then we can have our cupcakes and then never come back here ever again.”

Seokmin snorts at the ludicrousness of _that_ sentiment. “He’s cute, though. He seems nice, and all that. Why did you suddenly decide to let him know you were trying to get married to someone else again?”

“Because I’ve never been the best person at making spur-of-the-moment decisions, clearly,” Minghao mutters, a mild form of regret coming down to settle nicely around his shoulders.

“Thanks to your quick thinking,” Seokmin quips cheerily. “You’re never getting a date with the baker guy.” He leans over to Minghao, smiling innocently.

It takes everything in Minghao not to shove him off the bench they were both sharing. “Who said I _wanted_ a date with the cute baker guy?”

He looks up when the kitchen doors open, and there’s Mingyu again, up to his elbows in flour, plain white shirt stark against his sun-kissed skin, carrying a tray of the finely-decorated cupcakes. Minghao’s mouth drops open; the white frosting sat neatly on top of each different kind of cake, and they were sprinkled with a smattering of different kinds of toppings--spun sugar, white chocolate glaze, golden sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars. The cakes varied in color and kind, from chocolate to red velvet to butter sponge, and they look so delectable Minghao visibly gulps at the sight of them. And he’s not even into sweets. 

(Or cute bakers, for that matter. He thinks.)

“Oh my gosh, those look amazing,” Seokmin remarks almost reverently. He stands up and helps Mingyu guide the huge tray down onto the table. “You made all of this yourself?”

“Well,” Mingyu starts, rubbing the back of his head with his fist. He now had a white patch of hair as a result. “Mr. Harper baked some of it, but I did all the decorating, yes. It’s really fun learning how to do all this here.”

“Yeah, Minghao mentioned you came from Kentucky,” Seokmin says dismissively, his eyes too focused on looking over all the cupcakes laid down for his perusal.

Minghao feels the tips of his ears redden. 

Mingyu giggles a little. “Did he now?” He looks at Minghao, teasing.

“It’s not a difficult thing to remember,” Minghao says, trying not to sound too defensive. “You speak with an accent.”

“That I do,” Mingyu agrees, nodding. Minghao can’t stand the little pout he keeps making. “People think it doesn’t fit in with how I look; Mr. Harper keeps startling every time he hears it coming out of me.” He shrugs. “Anyway.”

He carefully lays down all the cupcakes in a row in front of them. “Our catering services for the cupcake bar extend to the selection of four of these for your guests, plus a selection of ice creams and soft desserts like chocolate mousse, tiramisu and soufflés. We can vary the designs and the base for the cakes too, just let us know in advance. When’s the date?”

“February 18th,” Minghao answers automatically. They’d decided that if any details were to be asked, he would be the one to answer because Seokmin could not be trusted to bluff his way out of any situation with any dignity. “Seokmin’s birthday.”

“My birthday? My birthday,” Seokmin repeats more assuredly when Minghao shoots him a tiny look. “Getting married on my birthday. Minghao, don’t you think Josh would find this awesome? He’d love it.”

Minghao peers closely at the cupcake Seokmin points at. “Yeah, it’s really pretty.”

“Who’s Josh?”

Both Minghao and Seokmin freeze, almost comically. _Shit._

“Best man,” Seokmin answers, at the same time that Minghao says, “Wedding planner.”

They look at each other.

“The best man who’s also the wedding planner,” Minghao says tentatively. He can practically _hear_ Seokmin whining internally about how he’s a terrible liar. “He’s not here right now. As you can see.”

“He trusts us enough to handle the cupcakes on our own,” Seokmin adds, laughing nervously.

“Hmmm,” Mingyu hums, clearly trying to figure out their strange behavior. “Anyway, please, by all means, feel free to sample any of the cupcakes.”

Minghao and Seokmin look at each other briefly, before each of them picks up a cupcake.

“It’s really really pretty, Mingyu,” Seokmin simpers almost reverently. “You’re really talented.”

A smile, genuine this time, stretches across Mingyu’s face, and he ducks his head a little shyly, pleased. “Thank you! I’ve been up since dawn working on the designs.”

“They’re so pretty. Don’t you think they’re pretty, Hao?”

Minghao clears his throat. “Pretty, yes.” He looks at Mingyu, who looks back at him strangely. Like there’s something on the tip of his tongue he wants to say.

The guilty part of Minghao doesn’t want to hear it.

“And it tastes really good too!” Seokmin exclaims, marveling at the party his mouth is having. “Oh gosh, I need to take some to Jo--home. I need to take them home.”

Minghao almost steps on Seokmin. For Pete’s sake. 

“Minghao?” Mingyu finally says. He smiles carefully again. “I’d love to hear your thoughts on the goods.” Minghao realizes he’s been clutching at the cupcake in his hand without eating it. 

“Oh, right. Right! Sorry about that.” Minghao smiles apologetically, before he finally takes a bite of the cupcake.

When Minghao was eight, there was a day when school was called off because of predicted inclement weather. In an ironic turn of events, the sun managed to rise and beat away the oncoming storm, and Minghao woke up from a nap to the nicest of feelings--a cool, soft breeze left behind by the summer rain, gently warmed by the rays of the morning sun, soft cotton against his cheek, a day of nothingness ahead. It’s one of his favorite memories, one that centered him whenever life pushed him to the brink of stress and exhaustion. It emptied his mind of anything and everything, reminded him of the simplest pleasures in life.

That very same feeling washed over him as soon as he bit into the cupcake.

Sweet, but not overly so. Slightly nutty, plenty creamy. Tasted like warmth, like a familiar embrace, like home.

In that moment, Minghao wonders if he’s missed half his life, foregoing as much sweets as he did. Or maybe it’s just Mingyu’s goods.

“It-it’s… wow,” Minghao manages to say out loud, and Seokmin stares at him in barely disguised disbelief. “It tastes really… really good Mingyu.”

“Ah, I’m really glad you liked it, Minghao!” Mingyu says, beaming brightly. He stands, almost as if vibrating with delight. “I’ll come back with the rest of the desserts.” He stands up, bows a little, before disappearing again through the kitchen.

“Wow,” Seokmin tells Minghao, who avoids his direct stare very deliberately. “You _like_ this guy. You really like this guy.”

“That’s stupid, I barely know him,” Minghao hisses in response, clutching at Seokmin’s jacket sleeve as if that would get him to talk in a lower voice.

“I’ve never seen you turn so red, and all this after eating a single bite of a cupcake?”

“It’s really good cupcake, you’ve tasted it!” Minghao insists. He touches his cheeks, however, in a panic. “What do you mean red?” He feels the warmth and groans. “God, this is terrible.”

“I can’t believe you told a guy you liked you were bringing your _fiancé_ for a potential first date,” Seokmin muses amusedly, taking another bite of the cupcake. “I mean, this is really good cupcake, but not ‘blushing bride at the altar’ good.”

Minghao scowls at Seokmin, and Seokmin is just about to open his mouth to tease Minghao again when all of a sudden he spots something over Minghao’s shoulder and his face turns white. Minghao would have marvelled at the sight of it if he hadn’t turned to see what made him react that way.

“Fuck.”

Josh raises an eyebrow. “Not the way either of you usually greet me but hello to you too.” He grins at the both of them, one of his hands tucked into his deep brown winter coat, the other clutching a takeaway cup of coffee from the counter. “What’s going on?”

Minghao turns to Seokmin and shoves at him. “You said he had a double shift today,” he says accusingly. 

“He did,” Seokmin replies, whining. “That’s what he told me!”

“I do have a double shift today,” Josh says, rolling his eyes at the pair of them. He takes a sip of coffee, raises it in reference. “I always grab a cup of coffee in between my shifts. It just so happens I’m buying from Harper’s today.”

The kitchen doors open, and Minghao thinks life is having a terrific laugh at him right now that he possibly rightfully deserves.

“Here’s more for your selection,” Mingyu announces as he comes back in carefully balancing a new bunch of desserts on a tray. He places them down in front of the two of them, looks to his right, and his eyes brighten in understanding. “Oh, so _you’re_ the Josh they talked about?”

“You know each other?” Minghao exclaims, at the same time that Josh replies, “Probably” and Seokmin meeps and hides his face in his hands. He was always terrible at secondhand embarrassment.

Josh looks at Minghao, a twinkle in his eye, looking entirely like a cat who ate the canary. “I’ve been buying coffee here for awhile. Since about the time Mingyu started actually.”

“You never mentioned—” Minghao wants to continue, but there’s something about the way Josh is smiling at him that makes him believe he’ll just be digging himself into a deeper hole.

“What have they said about me?” Josh asks Mingyu, leaning against the wall.

“That you’re their best man-slash-wedding planner,” Mingyu replies honestly, and Minghao thinks, _this is it. This is it. I’ll have to move to Canada._

Josh laughs out loud, heartily, almost giddily. “Their wedding planner?”

_Canada’s too close by. I’ll need to be an ocean away, at least._

“Ah Minghao,” Josh says, turning to Minghao. He’s smiling, as if he’s not even surprised by this information. Like someone had told him all about it.

Minghao turns to Seokmin, who is red-faced and blinking rapidly.

_China. I am moving to China tomorrow._

“You _told_ Josh,” Minghao exclaims, jaw dropping. “Oh my God, Seokmin Lee. I thought we _said_ we’d keep it a secret.”

“I can’t pretend to be your fiancé without telling my boyfriend,” Seokmin yelps. “I mean, Josh is fond of you but not _that_ fond.”

Minghao scowls at him, flush at the betrayal he encountered. Josh steps up behind him to pat him on the back.

“You know that he’s terrible at secrets,” Josh muses sagely. “It was a secret between the two of you for the ten seconds after you walked out of our apartment that day.”

“I’m never telling you _anything_ , ever again,” Minghao says hotly, and he’s ready to shake Seokmin again when someone clears his throat.

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Mingyu asks, in a voice that’s teetering on a tightrope between steady and decidedly not.

Minghao closes his eyes.

_Maybe outer space would be just far enough._

—-

Mingyu is silent for about a minute after Minghao stops talking.

“I swear, I’ll pay for all of this, if that’s the concern,” Minghao pipes up weakly.

“Oh, that’s kind of you, and honestly, I think Mr. Harper would agree, but--that’s not what I’m thinking about.” Surprisingly, Mingyu doesn’t look mad. At least, not as mad as he deserves to be, given that he’d done all that work under false pretenses.

Mingyu had taken an early break, and Minghao spared Seokmin and a snickering Josh the gristly scene of his apologizing to Mingyu by telling them to go on without him.

Now, Minghao is sitting in a booth with all of the cupcakes and desserts Mingyu spent all morning preparing, facing the latter’s scrutiny by himself. It’s quite possibly the most humiliating thing he’s ever done, and Minghao believes he fully deserves it.

“I swear, I don’t know what came over me—”

“I’m sorry too,” Mingyu says, all of a sudden, and Minghao stops abruptly in surprise.

“Why are you apologizing?”

Mingyu shrugs. He leans forward, picks up one of the little glasses of chocolate mousse and the unused teaspoon on the tray, and picks at the dessert. He chews, thoughtfully, before speaking again. “When I think about our conversation that day, I think my being too coy instead of honest led you to have to make up all of that.”

_Mingyu looks up at the sound of the door chimes ringing, and smiles pleasantly. “Oh, hello. I thought you were in a hurry to get to work?”_

_“I am,” Minghao says. He jams his hands into his pockets, almost shyly. “Listen, I saw your advertisement out there—”_

_“If you’re getting married, we do free tastings.” Mingyu gives him a smirk, tilts his head wolfishly. It’s a smile that’s supposed to be flirtatious, but ends up looking quite goofy, and it makes Minghao want to blush or burst out laughing. Possibly both._

_Instead, what slips out of his mouth is, “I am, actually.”_

_Mingyu stops and blinks. “Oh. You are?”_

_“I, I, I am? I am,” Minghao says, with more certainty every passing second. “Yes, I’m here because I’m asking about Harper’s possibly catering my wed-my wedding.”_

_“Oh,” Mingyu repeats. He shakes his head, straightens his back to appear more professional. Gives Minghao a bracing, wide smile. “Let me know your availability so I can pencil you into the schedule.”_

_“Um, sure, okay… maybe next Saturday?”_

_“Next Saturday, right. Okay. Sounds good,” Mingyu says, nodding like a robot. “I guess I’ll just, take down your contact number and arrange for someone from our office to schedule a more specific time later.”_

_“Okay, right.” Minghao rattles off his cellphone number and Mingyu dutifully writes it down on a piece of napkin he finds on the counter._

_“I guess that’s that, then,” Mingyu says. He smiles at Minghao, and there’s something about it that borders on wistful. “See you then?”_

_“See you,” Minghao says, nodding. It’s only when he closes the door behind him that he wonders just what the heck he’s gotten himself into._

“I’m the one who told you I was getting married when I clearly wasn’t,” Minghao argues. He leans back against the chair, crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t apologize when it’s not your fault.”

“Okay, okay,” Mingyu says in a sing-song voice. “It’s all your fault and not mine for being too flirty and backing you into that lie in the first place.”

“Exactly,” Minghao says, brooding. “I’m taking all the responsibility for that.”

After a beat or two, Mingyu pipes up again. “One question though.”

Minghao is looking at the half-eaten cupcake on the table with narrowed eyes. “What?”

“Why didn’t you just correct yourself?”

“Hmm?” Minghao looks up, eyebrows knotted and expression vaguely suspicious.

Mingyu smiles at him pleasantly, trying to coax Minghao back from his current state of deep internal disdain. “Why didn’t you just tell me you made a mistake.”

“Because,” Minghao says; the look in his eyes is almost sulky. “That way nothing had to mean anything.”

“Why? It’s just a person trying to make amends for almost ruining your coat.”

“Are you saying you flirt with everyone whose coats you ruin, then?” Minghao retorts.

Mingyu smiles. “No, just the ones whose coats I ruin on the way to work, with the cute button noses and the shy smiles.”

Minghao turns red then, a deep vermillion that almost matches the jacket he’s currently wearing, and Mingyu giggles triumphantly.

“Alright, alright,” Minghao grouses. “I deserve that.”

“You do, maybe,” Mingyu surmises. He finishes off the chocolate mousse, picks up the souffle next. “It took me two hours to make this without getting sad about the thought of you getting married, you know.”

Minghao glares at him this time. “Are you guilting me even more?”

Mingyu laughs. “I’ll guilt you for awhile yet, maybe.” He bites his lip, before continuing. “But you should know… I don’t, I don’t flirt with just anyone who almost runs into me at five in the morning.”

Minghao stares at him before Mingyu continues. “You’re the first person I’ve flirted with since moving to California. When I thought you were getting married, I thought, Mingyu, you just have the worst gosh darn luck, huh.”

There’s something about the way that Mingyu says “gosh darn” in his cute little accent that softens the crease in Minghao’s brow and makes his heart tilt, just a little. 

And then he thinks, well gosh darn it.

“Well, now you know,” Minghao starts, the flush on his cheeks deepening with the knowledge of what he’s about to say. “That I’m not getting married.”

Mingyu smiles, crinkles his nose with delight. “That’s right, you’re not.”

“And you still owe me coffee,” Minghao manages to say with a straight face. He looks up at Mingyu, and he can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face. Something about Mingyu just makes him feel giddy, like he’s eight years old again and waking up to a glorious summer breeze.

“I do,” Mingyu affirms.

“Ugh, please, no wedding references for awhile,” Minghao jokes, and Mingyu laughs, a bright sound that rings around the bakery, a sound that Minghao wouldn’t mind hearing again, and again, and again.

“Agreed,” Mingyu manages to say, after he stops giggling long enough to conduct conversation again. “No wedding references first. Let’s start with coffee.”

Mingyu holds out his hand, and Minghao looks down at it.

The fourth, and last, thing about this whole escapade, is that while Minghao’s impulses are hit or miss, his gut always tells him the right thing to do. And what his gut is telling him is that he would not regret taking Mingyu up on his offer.

So despite not having a sweet tooth and having a best friend who did not know how to keep a secret, Minghao concludes this whole affair by throwing all the things he knows to the wind and taking Mingyu by the hand, smiling.

“Okay. Coffee.”


End file.
